


Beneath the Surface

by p_maximoff



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: ?? - Freeform, Blindfolds, F/M, Oneshot, Smut, bent over a table, idk how tags work, thats always nice, um
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 10:30:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5740264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/p_maximoff/pseuds/p_maximoff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kylo Ren and the head of the medical department have a little--scratch that. They have a huge, juicy secret.<br/>It's not romance. Just a bit of stress relief.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beneath the Surface

**Author's Note:**

> This is pure filth tbh

They'd gotten smart about it. He would make sure the cameras in his private office would conveniently malfunction for an hour or two. He'd keep his desk clear of objects that couldn't be easily shoved to the side. She wore pencil skirts that could be hiked up for easy access. Panties that could be pushed to the side without hassle (or no panties at all, but that was a secret only the both of them knew). Shirts with buttons that snapped together rather than weaved through a slit that could not only be torn open without a mess, but quickly buttoned up. She didn't wear lipstick that would leave marks on his skin or clothes, and he didn't leave her bruises that could be seen above the collar of her shirt.

Their little... agreement had been going on for as long as she had worked with the First Order. At first it was messy, with them almost being caught by Hux or Phasma on multiple occasions, but after about three months they managed to figure out an algorithm that worked.

  
She wore her hair down as she walked down the halls of the Starkiller base. Her heels clicked on the ground and troopers paused to nod their heads in respectful acknowledgement of their superior. She wasn't exactly Kylo Ren's equal, but she wasn't below him either. While he managed the war related and political side of the First Order's affairs, she headed the medical side. She definitely had power, but since militance and politics happened to be of utmost importance to the Order, Kylo Ren just happened to be more feared.

  
Not that she feared Kylo Ren.

  
She held memo pad in her hand, coming to a stop in front of the closed doors of her destination. She tried to quell the butterflies in her stomach by reassuring herself that she had done this countless times before, but every time felt like the first time with him. She raised her hand and pressed her finger to the small black doorbell type contraption beside the large metal doors and after a few seconds, the doors slid open and she stepped in.

  
She didn't speak until the door slid shut behind her with a hiss and a sharp clicking sound as it locked on its own.

  
He was seated at his desk, the blue light from the map projected above it's glass surface glinting off of the metal on his mask. She had often wondered if he ever took it off when he was alone.

  
"Commander Kylo Ren," she greeted with a small nod. She struggled to keep the smirk off of her lips as she walked forward until her hips nearly touched the edge of his desk. He didn't say anything, so she went on, a playful hint to her tone. "I need your signature on this memo." Wordlessly, he stood up and walked around the desk. He came to a stop behind her, reached around her to grab the pad from her hands, and scribbled his signature where she needed it. Then he set it down on the table. It was silent for a few agonizing seconds while she waited for his next move.

  
It came quick and fast; before she could even register it, he'd reached into his robe and pulled out the two pieces of silk ribbon she was so used to and started to wrap them around her hands. Once her hands were tied behind her back, he reached up and placed the ribbon around her eyes. His movements were quick and aggressive, and a few locks of hair were caught tightly between the knot of the ribbon.

  
This was part of their agreement. She didn't get to see his face. She wondered if it was because he was grossly mutilated beyond recognition. If he was ashamed of what lay behind the mask. Part of her wondered if it was a technique to ensure people feared him; it dehumanized him. Made him nothing but a killing machine.

But as she heard the thump of his mask being placed on the floor beside his feet and the whoosh of his cloak falling to the ground, followed by the touch of his hands running up her thigh, she couldn't see him as a killing machine. He was killer, for sure, but his touch was so soothing. It cooled her skin enough to send shivers up her spine yet left trails of fire where his fingers were.

  
She gasped as his hand left her thigh and reached in front of her, pulling the front of her shirt apart. The buttons popped easily and his large hand grabbed one breast hungrily. He shoved her hair to the side and pressed his mouth to her neck, causing her to moan out in pleasure. He grabbed her waist, spinning her around so she was facing him. His lips were pressed to hers.

The kiss wasn't soft or sweet. Everything but. This wasn't romance; it was pure, unadulterated lust between a man and a woman who worked very stressful jobs.

She felt his hair brush her cheeks and her neck. Thats one she knew about his physical appearance--that he had long hair. That, and that he had the most luscious lips she'd seen--or rather, felt-- in a long time. She nipped at them hungrily, eliciting a small chuckle from him.

  
"So aggressive," he muttered jokingly, pulling away for a moment. His voice was music to her ears. It was deep and gravelly, and it sent vibrations through her body that she couldn't even describe.

  
"It's been over a week," she complained, wanting nothing more than to free her hands and touch him. Feel him. He chuckled again. She scowled, knowing that he could probably read her thoughts.

  
"Maybe one day I'll leave your hands untied," he thought aloud. He grabbed her waist again, turning her back around. One hand went to her back as he shoved her down until she was bent over the desk, the cold glass pressing against her exposed chest.

  
His other hand went to her skirt, pushing it up to her waist. He nearly growled when he saw that she wasn't wearing panties. She was so wet, her arousal nearly dripping down her thighs. She let out a squeal when a long finger was suddenly inside of her, slipping in easily.

  
"You're dripping," he said lowly, his hot breath hitting her ear.

  
"Just for you," she gasped out, her breath leaving her as his fingers worked their magic. He added a second and third, stretching her out. Waves of pleasure shot through her body, setting her skin on fire. She nearly bit through her lip trying to stay quiet. He curled his fingers and she couldn't help but cry out. His free hand immediately clamped around her mouth, muffling her moans.

  
"Shh," he growled. "Now cum for me." Her eyes shut tight as she felt the familiar tightening in the pit of her stomach. Her toes curled inside her shoes, his fingers turned a certain way, and suddenly she was tumbling over the edge. Her body shook as she rode out her orgasm. Her head felt heavy when it was over, and she welcomed the cold glass of the desk against her scorching flesh.

  
"Good girl," he muttered, and she grinned.

She heard the metallic sound of a belt unbuckling and felt warmth pool between her thighs again as she thought about what was coming.

  
She felt his fingers between her tender folds for only a moment before it was replaced with the round head of his member. He teased her by rubbing the head on her clit and she whined out in protest, bucking her hips backwards.

  
"Eager, are we?" he asked smugly, his voice sounding like velvet.

  
"Please," she breathed. "Please, Kylo Ren."

  
"Tell me what you want," he ordered, his voice sharp next to her ear.

  
"You," she said. "I want you. Please. I want you to fuck me." A second later, he pushed into her and filled her so deliciously that her knees nearly buckled. He moved agonizingly slow at first, letting her take her time to adjust to him. When she started to impatiently wiggle her hips, he took the cue and started to move faster.

His hands dug into her hips, and she could already feel the bruises forming. She didn't care though. All she could focus on right now was the intense feelings of bliss rolling through her body, rocking her to her core. All thoughts left her mind except him, him, him. She knew it was just sex, but it felt like so much more. They were connected somehow, because never before had she felt something to pure and concentrated with someone else. She knew he felt it too. Why else would he touch her like that? Make her feel like she was the only woman on the planet. That his hands were made for her and her only.

  
She felt her climax building quickly, and in no time she was having her second orgasm. This one had her seeing stars. He grunted, his movements becoming sloppier as he came soon after she did.

  
He stayed still for a moment, the room silent except for their heavy breathing.

Then he was gone, the air cold and empty where his hands were on her skin. She heatd him buckle his belt and pull on his cloak. The mask made a hissing then a clicking noise as it went back on his face.

  
She let him untie her hands and then remove the slip of fabric from her eyes. He walked quickly away from her to the other side of his desk to face the window that took up most of the wall. He seemed to be in deep thought, staring at the icy tundra of the planet the base was on.

  
Or maybe he was waiting for her to quickly clean up and get going.

  
She turned away from him, buttoning up her shirt and tucking it back into her skirt. She ran her fingers through her hair, making sure it wasn't a complete mess. She grabbed the memo pad and cleared her throat.

  
He looked over her shoulder at her.

  
"Anything else?" It was back to business. She couldn't help but feel a little sad.

  
"Yes, actually," she blurted out before she could stop herself. Kylo Ren turned completely to face her, his head cocked slightly to the side as if he was surprised she was still talking.

  
"I want to see your face," she said, hoping she didn't sound as nervous as she felt. She squared her shoulders and held her head high, letting him know that she wouldn't take no for an answ--

  
"No," he said simply. She was taken aback, though not surprised.

  
"Right," she said, feeling a bit like a blabbering idiot. She began walking backwards towards the door. "Part of the agreement. I get it." She turned around, but then paused.

  
"Actually, I don't get it," she admitted, facing him again. "We've been doing this for months, almost a year. I barely know anything about you, aside for what's available in the archives. And even that isn't much." Kylo Ren clasped his hands behind his back and she felt kind of ridiculous, but she'd already started her rant and was not about to finish halfway through. "I want to know who it is that I'm giving myself to. I want to know who it is that makes me feel things I didn't even know I could feel. I want to see your face."

He was silent and she almost thought he might've fallen asleep under the mask. After a few more moments of silence, she sighed.

  
"I don't know what I expected," she muttered, turning around the heading for the door again.

  
"Wait," his distorted voice stopped her in her tracks. She turned slowly to face him again. Her heartbeat increased and she felt her legs carry her slowly towards him as his gloved hands reached up to the sides of the mask.

  
There was a clicking noise and a hiss as the mask depressurized. He bent his head down to pull it off, and when he straightened up, his eyes locked directly onto hers.

  
"Oh," she said, and the man- Kylo Ren, raised an eyebrow.

  
"I didn't mean it like that," she backtracked, walking forward until she was standing in front of him. "I just... I don't know. I was expecting something else. I don't know what."

  
Her eyes danced over his high cheekbones and pale skin dotted with freckles and moles here and there. His eyes were the color of mossy water, dark and rich. His hair was long--she was right about that. It was raven black, falling around his face in a graceful manner. She was right about his lips, too; they were full and she wanted them against her skin again.

  
"Thank you," she said. She didn't know why she said it, but she felt like she had to.

  
There was a shift in their dynamic that day. She felt it. He did too. They reached a new level of intimacy and neither knew what to make of it.

  
What they do know is that their meetings were never again the same. There wasn't just lust anymore. There was something else, something soft, building beneath the surface.


End file.
